Anti-Nostalgic
by Kelleth
Summary: Sora tries to straighten some things out in her mind as she fights nostalgia. Somi/Mira, rating for language.


~Anti-Nostalgic~  
  
Disclaimer: Characters-not mine. Toei/RTL 2. The end.  
  
It had been a long and frustrating night so far for Takenouchi Sora.  
  
::crush::  
  
The crumpled ball of paper bounced off the rim of the trash can onto the floor with a crunch, landing softly on its predecessors. Sora brewed silently, unconscious to her surroundings, except for the notepad in her hands.  
  
"Think, think, think! Gotta try again," she muttered under her breath.  
  
She slowly and deliberately set her pen down, and wrote.  
  
  
  
Maybe I shouldn't be doing this.  
  
Maybe I made the wrong decision in the first place. There are too many uncertainties…and I'm beating around the bush. Ha. So I'll get down to it, then.  
  
I was so upset when you told me you'd be moving to America. I mean, I always expected it, your dad was always talking about it, but it seemed like a distant, harsh reality that we just might be lucky enough to avoid. Miracles happen, right? I thought if we wished hard enough, it wouldn't happen, and we could live in our own perfect world, and stay together forever. That's how it was the last few days, too…You just believe that the rules don't apply to you when you're young, I guess. But then you were gone, really gone, and suddenly I knew that we could never last-  
  
  
  
Sora looked at the paper critically. Fragments of thought, no beginning or ending, really just a stream of memory and reflection.  
  
She sighed aloud. "Why does it always have to sound so frigging stupid?"  
  
The paper was ripped out, crushed, and tossed away, replaced by a new sheet, a new chance to set things straight.  
  
  
  
Love. Sincerity. What are these to us? I know now that the true meaning of love is not pleasure, but exquisite pain. The pain of having known something beautiful, enduring, and blissfully sweet, and to have purposely destroyed it.  
  
I lied. You believed me.  
  
I hurt you, and I don't think I can ever forgive myself for that. How could I be so deceitful to you? I was so scared, disillusioned. We can't achieve perfection, and we have to work our asses off just to keep together. I was so afraid of losing you, not knowing when you would suddenly stop caring. So I decided when and how, and I decided that I would beat you to it. I thought that a clean cut would heal better than the injury of a slowly dwindling relationship, kind of like a heart attack as opposed to HIV.  
  
  
  
Sora frowned. "And what a lovely metaphor that is. God, that's truly wretched."  
  
::crumple::  
  
::toss::  
  
  
  
I think I finally figured out that you really have no choices, when it comes to love. Funny that it took me this long, right? I guess it was in your reply- that you took it so matter-of-factly, that you seemed so cold. I didn't want it to be real. I started bawling, right in front of strangers. This young hairdresser, I'll never know his name even, patted my back and told me it would be okay. I don't think I even stopped for days…  
  
But now, it's been months, and I'm still not over it. What happens if I've realized that what we had was really as good as it gets, and that I threw it all away? Am I just nostalgic, or would I feel the same if I could see you now? What happens if I ask you to forgive me, to take me, make me whole again?  
  
  
  
"Fuck it, that's so cliché," she said, without force.  
  
With a shrug that said, "Oh, well," she continued.  
  
  
  
Do I fall back into your arms, do you step back and watch me fall flat on my face? Why the hell should I be so presumptuous as to even consider that you might still care about me? Why should you have any reason to trust me after I did that to you?  
  
Is it too much to wish that we could find each other again and make our own rules?  
  
Dammit, Mimi, I really loved you. The part I'm worried about is, I think I still do.  
  
  
  
Sora folded the paper carefully and placed it in an envelope. Her vision blurred as she scribbled a hasty address, and threw it in the trashcan. She stumbled to her futon, eyes sealed with tears she refused to shed, and began a lengthy night full of restless dreams.  
  
1  
  
2 …………sometime later…in Sora's study…………..  
  
A silent hand drew the envelope from the rubbish bin, and with its found prize, the night visitor slipped softly away….  
  
A/N  
  
I originally intended to make this a one-shot, but I'm leaving it open. For you to guess: Who sees Sora's letters? What, if anything, are they going to do about it?  
  
And just in general, should this story be bitter, or sweet? 


End file.
